


Firefighter

by fightingfairywoman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2469008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightingfairywoman/pseuds/fightingfairywoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sirius is always fighting, even when he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firefighter

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a single scene for After You, a much longer project detailing Remus and Sirius' friendship over the years. Who knows - maybe I'll pick it up again someday...

Rounding the final turn of the spiral staircase, Remus jumped, nearly stumbling backwards, as an unexpected silhouette came into view. Sitting in the deep windowsill was Sirius, shoulders hunched angrily, surrounded by a haze of smoke and facing out the window. Remus cautiously climbed the last few stairs, his footsteps covered by an aggressive hiss as Sirius exhaled a stream of smoke. He stood motionless on the landing, staring, for a few long seconds before Sirius spoke.

 

'I know you're there, so say something or fuck off, whoever you are,' he said lazily, flicking ash off of his cigarette. He sucked in a veritable lungful of smoke, waiting for an answer.

 

'I - I'm sorry,' Remus stammered, 'I didn't realise you were - '

 

'Remus?' Sirius turned towards him, eyes narrowed. He paused, looking Remus up and down, then snapped, 'Well?'

 

Remus swallowed. 'Well what?'

 

'What are you doing here?'

 

'I was, erm - I just needed, you know, somewhere quiet to read, and...' Remus trailed off, wondering why Sirius always managed to make perfectly ordinary people feel like _they_ were the ones acting strangely. 'What are _you_ doing here, Padfoot?'

 

He hopped down from the windowsill and shoved his free hand in his pocket, glaring back at Remus. 'None of your bloody business.' Remus studied him for a moment, trying to formulate some kind of appropriate response.

 

'Do you want to - '

 

'Why do you always think it will help to _talk_ about it?' Sirius interrupted before he could suggest it, kicking at the stone floor with one scuffed combat boot. He took another heavy drag from the cigarette and let the smoke stream out of his nose, which only contributed to the intimidating demeanour.  'Fuck, Moony, you're such a bloody _pain_ about stuff. Did I ever say I wanted to talk about anything? Did I ever say, you know what would _really_ help, mate, would be if I could just _talk_ to someone about how everyone in the world is a complete _dick_ and then maybe I'd feel better about it, yeah, maybe that would fix - '

 

'Sorry for trying to be nice,' Remus snapped, then immediately regretted it as Sirius' eyes bored into his. Sirius whipped around and started pacing angrily.

 

'Everyone thinks they've got the bloody answer all the time,' he growled, flicking his cigarette again. 'Every time something happens, it's just sunshine and rainbows, isn't it, James just pretends it's all OK again, Peter follows along, fucking _Dumbledore_ gets all _involved_ with his fucking wise ideas, and _you_ think we can just _talk it over_. Did you ever think I might just want to be left alone?' He was raising his voice as he spoke, almost yelling by now. 'Fucking wankers, the lot of you. I get enough shit at home, and now I'm getting shit here too. You're hardly fucking better than my _family_ \- '

He made a strangled noise, his face contorted, and kicked the wall. 'You just - they - _argh_!' And before Remus realised what he was doing, Sirius had whirled around, leaned back against the wall, and stubbed his cigarette out on the inside of his arm. His shoulders sank, as though in relief, as the glow hissed out.

 

Alarmed, Remus moved forward. 'Sirius - !'

 

Sirius didn't seem to notice, as though it was perfectly normal to burn oneself in the middle of an angry rant at one's best friend, but his eyes were wet. 'Just fucking _go_ and leave me alone, Moony, I don't want to deal with this right - _argh_ , everyone's such a _fucking_ wanker!' By now he was shouting, having tossed the cigarette aside. He kicked the wall again, once, then twice, then slammed his fist against it. Remus' heart was racing as he tried to catch a glimpse of the burn on Sirius' arm. This was not his area of expertise. Books couldn't tell you what to do in these sorts of situations; there was no exam on Dealing With Violent Best Friends, and he was becoming increasingly desperate as Sirius continued to shout. He tentatively approached him, not sure if it was safe to touch him on the shoulder, but as he reached out, Sirius whirled around, eyes blazing and face red.

 

'I don't want to be here,' he yelled, dragging his arm harshly across his face to wipe off the tear or two that had snuck down his cheek. 'I don't want to _fucking_ \- Moony, you have no idea what it's - I just - ' His face screwed up and he raised a fist. Remus yelped, but instead of swinging a punch at him, Sirius brought it down onto his opposite arm, the one with the burn. Remus stared in shock as Sirius rained down punches onto himself, doubling over as he slammed both fists repeatedly into his arms, his stomach, his thighs -

 

'Sirius,' he pleaded, 'Padfoot, don't - please - '

 

Sirius gave a choking sob and sank to the floor, hugging himself tightly, nails driving into his skin. His hair had fallen to obscure his face, but his shoulders were shaking. Remus felt frozen, unable to move and unsure of what he should do even if he could. A million thoughts were racing through his mind: questions, theories, possible actions, _what on Earth am I meant to do next_? Pulse pounding, he reached out and gently laid a hand on Sirius' arm. When there was no response, Remus assumed it was safe to sit on the floor next to him, putting an arm over his shoulders while awkwardly trying to remove his bag from his own shoulder one-handed. Sirius was rocking slightly now, still breathing heavily, unevenly. His fingernails were leaving white marks where they dug into the flesh of his own forearms. Remus laid his head on Sirius' shoulder and tentatively placed his hand over Sirius', pulling his fingers out of their vice-like curled grip. Before Sirius could close his fingers on his skin again, Remus filled them with his own hand, intertwining them together. He moved his other arm back down so he could do the same with his other hand, and they sat there while Sirius' choking sobs slowed, then stopped.

 

'It's alright,' Remus found himself saying quietly, over and over. 'It's alright.'

 

After a minute, he shifted, moving to kneel in front of Sirius rather than sitting beside him, their hands still clasped. Sirius shifted to a cross-legged position. Remus met his eyes solemnly.

 

'I won't try to make you talk if you don't want to,' he said quietly. 'If you need to shout, then do it, and if you need to hit something, do that too. But you don't need to hurt yourself. I hate to see you hurting.' Sirius was staring at him distantly, looking unusually vulnerable. His eyes were still shining. Remus wasn't sure where his words were coming from, but they sounded right and they did seem to be helping. They had both loosened their grip on one another somewhat; Remus was rubbing his thumbs over Sirius' palms soothingly. Sirius looked down at their hands as though seeing them for the first time. The light from the window cast a dramatic glow over them, and for a moment they looked like something out of a painting.

Sirius raised one of Remus' hands to his cheek, eyes downcast, then shut. He seemed to be taking deep breaths. Remus stroked Sirius' cheek gently, wondering at how much he'd managed to calm down. Then, on an impulse, Remus reached forward to hug him.

 

After a tense second in the embrace, Sirius raised his arms to hug Remus back. He buried his head in Remus' shoulder, his breath warm against Remus' neck. On another impulse, Remus drew his head back slightly, stroking Sirius' hair, and kissed him on the forehead. Sirius stilled.

 

He looked up through his curtain of hair, grey eyes meeting Remus' brown. All Remus could hear now was their soft breathing and his own quickening pulse. Hesitantly, Sirius raised his head, and planted a brief, gentle kiss on Remus' cheek. They stared at each other for a long moment.

 

Afterwards, Remus couldn't be sure of who had moved in first, but it didn't matter. Suddenly they were kissing each other full on the mouth: still gently, carefully, quite chastely, but in a way that could hardly be interpreted as platonic. It wasn't how you read about in books - tornadoes of emotion, shooting stars, sparks flying, that sort of thing. It was awkward and slow and Remus was painfully aware of both of their breathing and his knees on the hard stone floor, but on the other hand, he didn't want to stop either. The place where their lips touched felt otherworldly, completely indescribable, but utterly right.

 

But it only lasted for a few seconds before their movements slowed, then stopped. They sat there, motionless, slightly open lips only millimetres away from each other. Remus was sure his heartbeat must be audible from the other side of the room. Shakily, he moved back an inch and looked up into Sirius' eyes, anticipating shock, confusion, anger, perhaps even violence; instead, Sirius was simply in awe, trembling beneath Remus' hands still resting on his back. For one long, beautiful, terrifying moment, Remus waited for something to happen - for one of them to say something, do something, anything. Then, suddenly, it was over. Sirius had looked sharply away, not focusing on anything in particular, still breathing heavily and shaking slightly. He tensed, curling all his limbs closer into himself, and his eyes fluttered shut. Tentatively, Remus leaned in, this time keeping his head to one side so they only hugged. Sirius didn't respond.

 

They sat in that position, totally still, for what felt like hours.

 

It was probably just five minutes at most in reality, after which point Remus couldn't bear it any more and indulged his niggling urge to look at Sirius' burn. He gently withdrew his arms from around his friend, who still didn't react; it was like handling a large and heavy doll. Sirius swayed slightly, eyes still downcast and unfocused. Silently, Remus pushed back the sleeve, turning Sirius' pale arm over.

 

Passing the faint crescents from his nails digging in earlier, Remus' eyes flickered over one mark which initially led him to think, _that wasn't so bad_ \- and then he spotted the actual one from minutes ago. It was an angry red-orange, surrounded by tender, vulnerable pink. Suspicious now, Remus searched for the first mark; it looked like the same wound but nearly healed, lighter and scabbed over. His heart sped up as a sickening theory formed, and he peered closer at Sirius' skin. Something in his stomach twisted nauseatingly as he made out the scar tissue: dots of it scattered over the pale flesh, some dark, some bigger, some smaller, some soft and silvery-white, others slightly raised. 'Sirius...' he murmured, his voice stammering like his heart.

Unexpected though it was, Remus couldn't say he was truly surprised; it seemed just like the sort of thing Sirius might do. What was less like Sirius was the fact that he was still unmoving, still gazing sleepily into the distance behind Remus, while Remus worried over his wounded arm. The silence was peculiar, impenetrable, rather frightening. Remus looked back up at his friend's slackened face and put a hand to the curve of Sirius' jaw, rubbing his cheek lightly with one thumb, turning Sirius' head towards him with a gentle push; Sirius' eyes dragged upwards, as though they weren't tracking properly, but eventually settled on Remus' own. Another stab of fear hit his abdomen. Those grey eyes were not blank as he had thought, but desolate. Sirius' eyebrows twitched a fraction of an inch closer; he blinked blearily a few times, then seemed to focus on Remus' face, studying his expression.

 

'Remus,' Sirius said, in a voice so small and vulnerable he sounded like a child. The name was a question, a request, a plea - uncertain, scared. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but no words came out. Remus' brow furrowed, and he somehow knew what to do. He got to his feet, stood by Sirius' side and reached down, holding the trembling boy firmly around the shoulders and helping him up. Then he picked up his bag again, adjusted his arm so it was firmly around Sirius' ribs, and walked them both steadily back to the stairs.

 

They descended slowly, cautiously. Remus was hyperaware of the sound of their shoes on the stone, the gentle, muffled echoes in the stairwell, and the puzzled, vague stare of Sirius next to him. Once they neared the bottom, he softly withdrew his arm, looking over to make sure Sirius had gathered himself enough to keep following. By this point Sirius' head was held a little higher, his eyes more clearly focused. They slowed a few steps from the bottom and then stopped, and though Sirius couldn't quite meet Remus' eyes, Remus reached over to gently pull down his friend's sleeve over the marks. He bit his lip while Sirius appeared to take a few deep breaths, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Then they set off again, a foot or two apart now and not looking at each other.

 

When they emerged in the hallway, Sirius flashed a trademark smile at the first few people they passed, and from Remus' angle it seemed that Sirius was back to normal - at least, on the surface. It seemed only natural that before he knew it, Remus, who a minute ago had been manually guiding his nearly-catatonic friend, was left trailing behind as Sirius bounced ahead, energetically leading the way back to Gryffindor Tower.


End file.
